


Better Than to Gaze into Sea or Sky

by magic_majd



Category: Naruto
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Introspection, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possibly Unrequited Love, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Yamato-centric, because who else could it be, involving Kakashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_majd/pseuds/magic_majd
Summary: Aoba, Yamato notes panickedly, is much less timid than he’d previously thought.Set during the Paradise Life on a Boat arc.
Relationships: Maito Gai | Might Guy/Yamato | Tenzou, Yamashiro Aoba/Yamato | Tenzou, Yamashiro Aoba/Yamato | Tenzou/Maito Gai | Might Guy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	Better Than to Gaze into Sea or Sky

They’ve dropped anchor at a decently-sized island covered in greenery to replenish their supplies, Yamato deciding to camp there overnight to give Gai’s stomach a short break.

After they eat and the sun descends under the horizon, Yamato excuses himself. There’s actual, fairly thick forests on this island, and he barely can wait to hide away for a couple of hours, smell the leaves and the soil, soft, sweet, damp.

Settling on a particularly wide branch, he sighs contentedly. As pleasant company as Naruto, Gai, Aoba and the rest of their crew are, after weeks on the sea it does get a bit too much. Especially Naruto and Gai, with their (in Gai’s case nearly) endless energy, and he often finds himself quietly glad for Aoba’s calm, tempering presence.

The night is silent and pleasantly warm. He allows his mind to finally go blank, taking deep breaths. When he’s like this, he feels himself becoming one with the nature around him, growing perfectly still, breath coming and going in slow, relaxed waves, in perfect harmony with the soft breeze rustling the leaves around him. He likes to do this every time he can, has been doing it since he’d been a child - lord Danzo bringing him some more scrolls and suggesting that he spend more time in nature - and with his eyes closed and a somewhat dreamy smile on his lips, he’s often imagined the Shodaime doing this too. After learning about nature chakra, he’s sure the man had. 

He manages to relax so deeply that he can feel the ripple in the energy around him when Aoba approaches him from the camp, can almost hear the soft hum of his chakra.

“Hey,” Aoba greets him mildly, dropping to a crouch opposite him on the branch - it’s not thick enough for both of them to settle comfortably against the trunk of the tree, but Aoba doesn’t seem to mind, pulling out a bottle of sake and two cups. “Thought you could use some company.”

Yamato’s answering smile must be more strained than he’d realized, because Aoba catches on, chuckling softly. “Yeah, as if we didn’t spend enough time together as it is, huh?”

He pops the bottle open and pours Yamato a generous amount; himself a little less. His smile turns a bit sharp, predator-like, as he’s handing Yamato his cup, moving closer on the branch. “Just humor me for a bit, okay?” he murmurs lightly.

Yamato swallows a handful of protests and takes the cup, stares at it for a second, feeling Aoba’s gaze on him, and decides that he could maybe do with a bit of a relaxant, just this once, takes a couple of sips. “So,” he begins, throat tingling pleasantly from the alcohol. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Aoba-san?”

The man shrugs, expression inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep. You know how it goes sometimes.”

Yamato does. They all know each other’s nightmares pretty much by heart at this point.

“Besides,” Aoba smiles now, in that unfamiliar, slightly unnerving way again, moving even closer and refilling Yamato’s cup. “I had better things to do. Drink up.”

Yamato raises an eyebrow but does, swallowing with a soft cough. “Better things, yes?” he shoots back cheekily. “Like getting your captain drunk?” He’s already getting flushed from the sake, and when Aoba leans into his personal space, perched on the branch like a bird of prey, Yamato doesn’t even flinch, just presses as far back against the tree as he can an narrows his eyes at him, cheeks warm.

“Poor captain,” Aoba croons, too close, breath washing over Yamato’s ear. “Can’t handle his drink. So stiff and proper.”

Yamato’s brow furrows at that in embarrassed anger. He extends an arm, presses against Aoba’s chest and pushes, not strongly enough to actually force him back, but enough to get his point across. “Cut it out, Aoba-san,” he mutters irritably. “You’re not acting like yourself tonight.”

Aoba doesn’t move an inch. “Maybe not,” is all he admits to before leaning his head forward, tipping their foreheads together with a soft clink. His fingers brush against Yamato’s covered collarbones, making him jump a little, move up his neck, trace his chin and then push against his face protector.

Yamato watches him with bated breath. “What are you…” he starts, but then his protector slips upwards and away and Aoba’s calloused hands are on his cheeks, in his hair. 

When Aoba finally kisses him, he gasps quietly, tenses for a couple of heartbeats, and then, shuddering, melts into it like the touch-starved mess he is.

He wonders how the hell Aoba knew.

Of course, that’s the moment his brain decides it’s a good time to think about the only person he’s ever really wanted to be kissed by, and he draws in a sharp breath through his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, fingers curling in the front of Aoba’s flak jacket, because he refuses to consider this a betrayal, not if it’s towards the one person that will never return his feelings, never open himself up, never let Yamato in, not really. 

To Aoba, it must seem as an invitation, because he’s pressing even closer, licking into Yamato’s trembling mouth, tugging and petting his hair.

When they part to catch breath, Yamato only hesitantly opens his eyes and blushes startledly when he sees how close Aoba is, mouth slick and smirking and red from stubble burn, just like his own must be.

“Liked that, huh?” Aoba murmurs, deep voice rough. His headband is even more askew than usual and Yamato can’t stand being constantly reminded of his unrequited love in a situation like this.

Aoba shucks off his jacket. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we set out of Konoha,” he chuckles sheepishly, then ruffles his hair, rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Are you… wow, are you always this submissive?”

Yamato’s eyes widen and he feels his ears burn in embarrassed shame. “What?” he croaks quietly.

Aoba draws closer again, now only in his undershirt. “No, hey, that’s a good thing. I mean, I like it, a lot,” he rambles, then stops himself and smiles a bit, runs a finger across Yamato’s covered jaw. “I’d actually secretly hoped you’d be like this.”

Before Yamato can stutter out a response, Aoba puts his hands on his knees and spreads them open, slots himself into the space, and Yamato, to his own shame, lets him easily, shocked speechless and so embarrassed, because all of this is still fairly new to him, and he would never have imagined…

Then he realizes how intimate, how vulnerable a position that puts him in. He’s been trained against this. He could be killed like this. “Aoba-san, I…” he begins uneasily, voice weak. “I- I can’t do this-”

Aoba hushes him immediately, but it’s gentle and careful, laying soft kisses over Yamato’s cheeks and lips, hands decidedly slow, _harmless_ , as they move up to his collar and tug it down, over the curve of Yamato’s chin and down to his collarbones. 

“Just relax,” Aoba breathes against now bare skin. It’s where Yamato’s the most vulnerable, the most sensitive, which is mostly why he covers his neck and jaw, and he actually whines when Aoba bites down on the side of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut immediately after, cheeks burning with startled shame, but can’t help spreading his legs a bit wider, baring his neck a bit more.

Aoba huffs at that heavily, then tears himself away and unzips Yamato’s own vest, begins pulling his shirt off, Yamato barely remembering to lift his arms up to help him.

“You’re gorgeous,” Aoba breathes like they haven’t seen each other naked dozens of times by now; it makes Yamato blush anyway. He’s always lapped up praise like a hungry cat, after all, and Aoba must’ve somehow picked up on that (gods, what hasn’t he picked up on), because he’s smirking as he runs warm hands down Yamato’s sides and then back up his tense, trembling stomach, smirk turning into a pleased chuckle at the startled inhale that Yamato gives as his thumbs start rubbing gentle circles into his nipples. 

It’s way too much and not enough at the same time, and Yamato’s body feels like it’s on fire, and he can’t do anything else than squeeze his eyes helplessly as Aoba gets to working his pants open, sucking at the bite that he had made. 

“Yamato! Aoba! Are you okay?”

It’s Gai, of course it is, the deep, earthy, powerful rumble of his chakra unmistakeable even in Yamato’s present - panting, disheveled - state, and they both freeze. 

As Aoba promptly backs up, Yamato barely has time to wonder where in the five Kage’s name his shirt had ended up, before the trees around them shake slightly and Gai lands on the thick branch opposite them with the heavy grace of a tomcat and a worried expression on his face. 

Them... huh. Yamato manages an awkward, wincing smile. Aoba has disappeared.

He feels Gai’s eyes on him, sees his gaze skim down his bare chest, and then lower, and Yamato wants to melt back into the tree, flushing deep red, _could_ melt back into the tree, and he gives it some serious thought before discarding the idea because that would be just rude.

“O-oh, Yamato,” Gai rumbles awkwardly, and Yamato wants to laugh incredulously, because Gai is red, now, too. “I see that you have been exercising. Good! I apologize for interrupting you in the middle of such a... youthful activity.”

Yamato makes a desperate little sound, because he’s just… _done_ , with everything, and so turned on it hurts. He can’t help knocking his head back into the tree and burying his burning face into his hands, swearing muffledly.

Immediately, with speed that shouldn’t be as startling anymore but still makes his breath catch, Gai is crouching right by him. “Are you alright, Yamato? Who did-- did Aoba--”

The change from light-hearted to completely serious in the span of seconds shouldn’t be as startling either. Yamato looks up at him, shakes his head confusedly and makes to speak, but is shocked into silence by Gai’s hands - distractingly firm, rough, big - on him, examining him intently, nudging his chin up and carefully tracing what must be the bite Aoba had left, fingers coming back tinted with red. _Oh_ , Yamato wonders fuzzily; was the bite that bad? It didn’t feel bad, it felt…

Gai sits back on his heels and looks him in the eye again. He looks… huh. Yamato’s eyebrows draw together. He looks angry.

“Are you hurt anywhere…” he wanders off, eyes flicking to his neck again, “anywhere else?”

Yamato looks at him like he’s crazy, mouth forming a “no,” but letting out a soft, breathy sound instead, and _why_ is he still so winded?

Gai’s brow furrows even more, and Yamato thinks that he’s never seen the man like this. 

“How do you feel, Yamato? Use your words.”

“I…” Yamato attempts, tries to focus for a moment, tries to ignore just how close to him Gai is, exactly where Aoba had been before, and hey, that’s really not a very helpful line of thought. He manages a desperate snicker. “How… dow do you think I feel? I’m… _fuck_.” He covers his eyes with one arm, shivers involuntarily. He feels like something’s tugging at this stomach, lighting his skin on fire, making him want to move a bit closer to Gai and-- okay, something’s definitely not right here. “What the hell was in that sake,” he mumbles to himself.

Gai sighs, then places his palm on Yamato’s forehead. “You’ve been drugged.” At his startled look, Gai raises a hand. “Nothing serious. It… was Aoba, wasn’t it?”

Yamato lowers his eyes in embarrassment and nods weakly. His brain feels like it’s melting inside his skull.

“Come on,” Gai says, suddenly leaning close again and hooking his hands under Yamato’s bare arms. “We need to get you to a medic.”

Yamato gasps at that, shivers helplessly. “A-ah, wait, stop, Gai-san--”

Gai stops trying to lift him, but doesn’t move away, and Yamato is shamefully glad for it. He needs- he needs _somebody_ , and Gai is… he’s so…

“You need help. And _I_ need to talk to Aoba, as soon as I get you to safety,” Gai murmurs, body tense despite his calm tone.

“No,” Yamato breathes, struggling to make sense. “Please, don’t, not when I’m like this-- can’t let them… see me.” Exhausted and flushing with a new wave of heat, he squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself to bury his face in the muscle of Gai’s shoulder, arms coming up and around his neck. He can hear Gai huff softly, and then he’s being hoisted up and _carried_ \- automatically wrapping his legs around Gai’s waist like a damn monkey, and when one of Gai’s hands slides down to support his lower back, he shivers and sighs and presses closer to him.

Still, Gai only carries him as far as the ground, peeling him, gently, always gently, off of himself and laying him down onto the soft, fragrant grass. Yamato reaches right back up for him. Surprisingly, Gai doesn’t resist, lets Yamato draw him close, supporting himself on his forearms. 

He does lean back when Yamato tries to kiss him, though. “You’re not yourself, Yamato,” he says simply, reasonably, and Yamato scoffs at him, mouth moving by itself, thoughts blurry.

“I’m not _Yamato_ , either,” he slurs. “I’m nobody, what does it matter… if I’m not-” he licks his lips and blinks slowly. “-not myself, for once?”

Gai looks at him like that’s the most tragic thing in the world.

He doesn’t expect the hand that comes over his eyes, then, or the mouth that presses against his own.

Hazily, it occurs to him that he’s never been kissed by two people in one day - or one _year_ , for that matter. 

It also occurs to him that Gai is Kakashi’s best friend. Somehow, he can’t quite bring himself to hate himself for it.

By touch alone, his fingers clumsily find the zipper on the back of Gai’s jumpsuit and drag it down as far as they can, baring wide shoulders and a hint of an impossibly broad chest - the body of a warrior, not a shinobi, and he’s always found that particularly impressive about Gai; not just his brute strength, but the way he’s made art out of it, honed himself in a way none of his peers seemed to be able to. 

Noticing his effort, Gai leans back to help him, dragging the elastic fabric down one arm, then the other, leaving it to pool around his waist. He doesn’t go further than that, though, instead moves back into Yamato’s space, smiling warmly, slightly embarrassedly, at the nearly reverent look he receives, and kisses Yamato’s cheek; then - with the familiar, heart-warming playfulness - his chin, his Adam’s apple, his collarbones. When his lips and after that, his teeth, close around one of his nipples, Yamato jerks and bites his lip so hard he draws blood, squirming up against the solid body above him.

Gai looks up and quirks an eyebrow, and suddenly there’s two fingers pressing against Yamato’s slick lips - he takes them in, gratefully, the grounding taste of skin mixing with the sharp tang of blood.

When Gai turns his attention back to his nipples, his other hand moving down Yamato’s chest to rest on the straining bulge in his pants, Yamato’s body arches into the touch desperately, begging for the light squeeze that follows.

Taking his fingers out of Yamato’s mouth and replacing them, helpfully, with one of Yamato’s own hands, Gai finishes opening his trousers and tugs them down to his knees. He does the same with Yamato’s boxers, and then, before Yamato can begin to feel too exposed, quickly covers him with his body again, one hand sneaking down and wrapping around his length, cradling his balls carefully, then massaging the slick head.

Yamato nearly sobs with how good that feels, toes curling and teeth digging into his own knuckles. Dreamily, he thinks that he could spend the rest of his life like this. Squeezing stray moisture out of his eyes, he tenses like a string when Gai rubs his thumb, merciless, over his slit, then slicks him up and begins stroking him with confident, smooth motions. _Oh_ , he gasps quietly, _oh_ , he’s not going to last a minute like this, not the way he is now - panting, drugged and loose.

Gai, as if sensing that, quickens his pace and leans down to suck at the crook of his neck-- and Yamato bites into his hand desperately, bucks up and comes into Gai’s fist, not feeling a tiny bit embarrassed about finishing this quickly, because he feels like he’s melting into the forest floor, and Gai is warm and solid and so comforting above him, kissing his temple and murmuring foreign, bright things into his ear. It feels like he’s basking in the sun.

When he starts coming back to himself again, Gai is still talking, deep voice hushed against his jaw. “...because you’re a lovely person, and so clever, and we all admire you very much…”

Yamato slits his eyes open and peers at him, what he can see of him at least, thick hair and smooth, tanned shoulders. He’s still breathing heavily, bonelessly sprawled on the ground, and his head still feels fuzzy, but clearer than before - clear enough to make him recognize just how thoroughly he’s embarrassed himself. He groans brokenly, too comfortable to move, but tries to speak anyway. “Gai-san. I… I’m so sorry,” he rasps out.

Gai shushes him, runs a hand through his messy hair. “Don’t be,” he murmurs and gives him a smile so warm it makes him avert his eyes. 

"Yeah," comes, suddenly, from behind him. "Don't be. You were perfect."

Aoba's smiling at them from behind the tree, albeit a bit self-consciously, which turns into straight out uncomfortable when Gai, still shirtless, looks up at him and makes to stand up, expression hard. Yamato winces and tries to cover himself.

Aoba raises his hands defensively. "Wait, wait, I can explain," he says.

Gai crouches over Yamato's prone form like a tiger guarding its cubs. "I am sure you can."

"So," Aoba begins and takes a few careful steps closer. "Uh, you know how stiff Yamato-san always is, and, well, even before we left the village, me and a couple of the guys were talking about how buttoned up he always is, y'know, the way you just don't know whether he's shy or shifty," he chuckles, then nods towards Yamato who has meanwhile turned bright red once again. "Now I know that it’s shy, but… well, I thought that he should relax a bit and unwind and all that, and so I got this," he pulls out the bottle of sake. Before Yamato can hide his face in his palms, he sees Gai grit his teeth, and isn't that a sight. "I got it from some old woman at one of the islands we stopped by," Aoba continues. "She said that it was totally safe, that it just makes the person who drinks it... loosen up... a bit." He scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly. "It worked, though. C'mon, Gai-san, see how good you made him feel? Normally, he would've never let us do this."

Gai lets out a sigh. "That is not up to us."

 _Huh?_ Yamato's brain stutters at the implications that brings, and he blinks, incredulous, between the two men. Then, he clears his throat. "Why, uh…" he hesitates, feeling both their stares turn to him. "Why did you leave, Aoba-san?"

Aoba's lips curl up a bit as he steps closer, crouches next to him and Gai. "I thought that you'd look more inviting on your own," he murmurs, reaching out and running his fingers down his flushed cheek, then turns to Gai. "Seems like I was right."

"Aoba," Gai says, warningly, when Aoba moves his hand into Yamato's hair and tugs on it gently. Yamato narrows his eyes at him indignantly, but blushes deeper nonetheless, heart hammering in his chest, and _gods,_ how is he getting hard again?

"He wants more," Aoba tells Gai, who frowns.

"It's the drug," he replies sternly.

Yamato, who - although his brain still feels like cotton candy - is getting tired of the two of them treating him like he's not _right_ there, speaks up. "Um… I can decide for myself. My head is… better. Gai-san, you…” He swallows, blushing heavily. “I'd like to-- repay the favor." Before Gai can shake his head, he reaches out and takes his hand, brings it close to himself. Then he looks to the side and has to clear his tight throat to speak, because this is just… pure madness. "Aoba-san, uh, you too. I'll- deal with the consequences later. Now--" he closes his eyes, ears burning with shame. "Please, just…"

Gai’s fist clenches in his loose grip. “Yamato, you don’t have to-”

“Please,” he repeats, thinks that he probably never said the word this many times in his life, tries to smile up at him. “I want to. You won’t be, um... forcing me to anything.”

Aoba, exhaling, leans over to the still-silent Gai, who seems painfully torn, and claps a somewhat hesitant yet calming hand on his shoulder. “Gai-san,” he begins in a low tone. “It’s okay, really. Trust me, we’ll be helping him.”

Gai blinks at him like he’s just realized something, and of course he did - Yamato wants to smack himself, because Aoba is… well, this is what he does. He hasn’t been particularly open about the full extent of his abilities - none of them have - but Yamato has seen him in action, knows Aoba’s spent half his life working on and off for the Intelligence Division, under none other than Yamanaka Inoichi himself. He shouldn’t be surprised that Aoba’s read him, too, but can’t help thinking, ruefully, that perhaps he'd just made himself too easy to read.

Finally, Gai nods, solemn. “Indeed,” he says, mouth a straight, reproachful line. “Nonetheless, I expected better from you, Aoba.”

Aoba sighs again, but the corners of his mouth quirk up slightly. “We can discuss that later.” Then he turns back to Yamato, gives him a strangely gentle smile. “Alright, we’ll have to move you a bit. Can you sit up?”

Yamato nods and begins getting onto his elbows, limbs feeling sluggish, but before he can properly move, Gai huffs, wraps an arm around his middle back and hoists him up without seemingly any effort, Yamato inhaling startledly, hands flying up to clutch at Gai’s shoulders for stability.

Aoba lets out an amused chuckle. “Good. Turn him around, please.” And Gai does, carefully but still way too easily, like Yamato doesn’t weigh nearly as much as he does, until he’s pressed against Gai’s wide, solid chest. It feels… safe, and so warm, and as Gai’s hands splay over his stomach and chest, embracing him from behind, he exhales dreamily, head foggy with arousal, and lets his head fall back onto Gai’s shoulder. Still, when he fully relaxes back into Gai’s hold, hips slotting against Gai’s, his breath hitches and his stomach does a half excited, half nervous little flip: so this is Gai’s… _oh_ , he thinks, face hot. It’s… flattering, in a way, to know that even with all of his unattractive, helpless flailing, it’s still him who got Gai hard. His mind screeches to a stop and he draws in a shuddering breath when he feels Gai twitch against his ass, just in time for Aoba to lean in, settling between his spread knees like he never left in the first place, cup the back of his head and steal his breath away with a deep, dizzying kiss. 

Gasping, Yamato tenses for a short moment, because this all is… a lot to take in, Gai a wall behind him and Aoba in front, but before his subconsciousness can plunge him right back into the deep, dark bog of his early childhood, Aoba draws back and takes his face in his hands, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Yamato swears he can see something of Aoba’s eyes behind the glasses.

“It’s okay,” Aoba breathes huskily. “You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

He feels more than hears Gai hum in agreement against his shoulderblade and lets out a slow, shaky exhale, mouth half-open, eyes half-lidded, breath evening out and body relaxing again. And when Aoba kisses him again, he doesn’t tense up anymore; instead, he closes his eyes and arches his back, surprising even himself as his hips grind, on their own accord, against Gai’s hardness. He doesn’t feel like his skin is going to burn off anymore, but he does feel drunk, of sorts, his self-control slipping out of his loose grasp, and as Gai’s fingers tighten around his waist, hips pushing into Yamato’s own in answer, he moans wantonly into Aoba’s mouth.

They end up rearranging some more, and ultimately, he finds himself kneeling up, squeezing his trembling thighs together as Gai thrusts between them, hotly panting praises against his spine. Yamato himself is a complete mess, leaning his burning forehead on the smooth skin of Aoba’s shoulder and looking down, mesmerized, at their connected hands, Aoba’s over his own, guiding him as they stroke Aoba in quick, smooth tugs, until he tenses, quietly, gracefully, and spills between the two of them with a soft hiss of “Ah, fuck, yes.”

He can feel Aoba’s slowly softening breath ruffling his hair, Aoba’s other hand squeezing the back of his neck, then prompting his head up and nipping at his lips languidly, kissing his jaw, nuzzling against his neck. Yamato leans into it desperately, so aroused that it’s driving him out of his mind. Thankfully, one of Gai’s hands finds his untouched length, and, like before, it only takes a couple of tight strokes to make him spill gratefully onto his own bare stomach, Gai leaning forward and covering him with his body, nose nudging at his jaw, and Yamato automatically obeys, still gasping from the pleasure, turns his head and lets Gai lick into his slack mouth, melts back against him despite the somewhat uncomfortable angle. He’s trembling with exhaustion but can’t help the moan that’s dragged from him at the feel of Gai’s hips slapping against him with enough force to nearly knock him over, then stilling, and he bites his bruised lips, cheeks burning and eyes closed, as Gai’s length twitches and jerks between his legs. Somehow, that makes him dizzy with relief, because he wants Gai to feel good, wants him to feel just as amazing as Gai has made him feel, and sure, it’s still sort of unfair because he came twice and Gai only once, but as Gai’s mouth slides down from his own to kiss his shoulder and sigh deeply, he sounds satisfied, and that’s enough for Yamato.

\---

The aftermath is… well, it’s not as horrible as he'd feared, but it’s not comfortable, either.

It has been four days. Four days on the sea, and Aoba continues apologizing, but so do his touches. Whenever they're alone, even for a moment, Aoba looks at him with an inscrutable expression and lays a hand on his shoulder, or brushes his arm with his fingers, or, sometimes, finds his hand and covers it with his own. All very innocent, but Yamato can all but stop the sighs that threaten to escape him every time, cheeks turning pink under the scrutiny. He knows what Aoba's trying to tell him, or he thinks he knows, because this is Aoba, unpredictable Aoba, with his hidden eyes and temperate smiles and his calm, deep voice, and his hours of quiet contemplation in the middle of the night.

Gai, on the other hand, is both less and more obvious at the same time. Sure, he's sick most of the time, but when he's not, that is, at the rare times the sea is perfectly calm, he practically showers Yamato with attention and bright, somewhat awkward smiles; he's careful not to touch him, though. And still fairly cold to Aoba.

He's caught Naruto eyeing them suspiciously a couple of times but is pretty sure he doesn't have a clue about what’s happening between the three of them, which makes Yamato breathe a lot easier. The situation is strange enough as it is. 

The dreams aren't helping, either. After a while, Yamato begins to genuinely dread sleeping in the cabin with the rest of their team, because when he's asleep he can't control himself, and then his mind, treacherously… goes places. He's taken to sleeping exclusively on his side or his stomach, but to avoid any risks, he takes the night watch as often as he can, and just resorts to napping, restlessly, outside.

Tonight is one of those nights, the deck of their boat all but empty except for a few hands on the stern. He’s keeping to himself at the bow, leaning against the railing and staring ahead. It’s particularly foggy, tonight, and the prow of the ship, like a bird’s beak, seems to slice right through the fog, so thick it is. It’s like they’re cutting through clouds, the ocean a dark, starless sky stretching endlessly beneath them. He takes a breath through his nose, the salty air stinging a little. He might just create a proper figurehead for them one of these days. He feels the night wind ruffle his hair and leans his face into it, smiling, mildly, to himself. It’s at times like this that he feels the happiest, paradoxically - quiet, peaceful, mundane moments. Some people would probably call him boring for that. Sai would understand, though. Kakashi always did, too, of course. 

The war is coming, and it feels like it’s waiting behind every island they pass, but even if this is the quiet before the storm, or perhaps because, it is precious. All life is, and he swears to himself that if he survives this, if _they all_ survive this, because there would be no Yamato (peaceful, soft-hearted, idealistic) without people to protect, and there would be no Tenzo without _him_ , he had realized that some time ago; if they survive this war, then, he swears that he’ll be selfish and build a house just for himself, somewhere on the green outskirts of Konoha, where the forests are still mostly untouched, and he will put his heart into that house and let it grow, let the nourishing energy of his (not quite his) chakra create a true paradise, and a true home.

There’s the sound of the door to the cabin opening and closing, and then footsteps getting closer, slowly but not hesitantly, and he knows who this is, heart quickening. Aoba comes to stand next to him at the bow. Yamato looks at him, steadies himself, lets his lips quirk up wryly. “Couldn’t sleep again, Aoba-san?”

He receives a small, equally wry smile in return. Then, the back of a hand brushing against his. And maybe it’s the fog or the endless, glittering darkness beneath them, or his own strangely hopeful thoughts, that make him take the first step for once, and he shoots a cautious look around them before stepping closer and pressing a tentative kiss to Aoba’s cheek. When he draws back, his face feels warm, and Aoba is staring at him, mouth half-open.

“Wow,” he says, sounding surprised. “What was that for?”

“Not trying to drug me again,” Yamato replies teasingly, then blushes, averts his gaze. “I… um, I mean, I--” he stops himself, irritated, and narrows his eyes at the wooden floor of the deck. He’s been wanting to ask this ever since _that_ night, and this is as good of a moment as any. “What’s next?” he blurts out and immediately regrets the choice of words, feels Aoba’s eyes dig into him heavily. “I meant- are you-- do you want to-- _why_ did you do it?”

Aoba’s sigh is almost soundless, something between a huff and a laugh. “I think you deserve to be appreciated,” he says simply, calmly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have a personal… interest in doing what I did, and it would be a pretty obvious lie. And I admit, again,” he continues in a low tone, “that I put you, and Gai-san, too, in an uncomfortable position, without your consent. But,” and that’s when he steps forward, reaching out and laying a possessive hand to the side of his neck, thumb tracing his chin. “Hey, I would do it again.” 

Yamato narrows his eyes, then gasps softly as Aoba kisses him. The fog seems to thicken around them. It doesn’t last long, that kiss, but it’s sweet and heavy with intent at the same time, and he’s already flushed, already out of breath when Aoba draws back, looking pleased with himself.

"How…" Yamato swallows, licks his tingling lips. "How did you know? Before, I mean."

Aoba gives him a temperate smile. "I notice things, Yamato. Analyzing people is a part of my job."

 _You're not supposed to analyze me,_ he thinks, embarrassedly, stares into the depths of Aoba's glasses, wishing the man would take them off sometimes. Considering that he sleeps in them, though… how ironic that someone who reads people for a living would be uncomfortable about showing his own eyes.

Still, there is one more thing he needs to say, and he steels himself, determined not to stutter for once. "Then you must know that I cannot give you more than... whatever this is."

Aoba lets his hand slide down from his neck to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Yamato, I'm not clingy," he chuckles mildly, then turns more serious again, slightly lowering his voice. "You're already in love with someone.” 

Yamato feels his mouth fall open, eyes widening, but Aoba continues casually, unconcerned. “As far as _this_ goes," he gestures between them with his index finger, then points a thumb in the direction of the cabin. "I'm not expecting anything more than simple physical comfort." When he smiles again, it's one of his sharp, bird of prey ones. "Call it letting off steam, if you like."

It sounds so easy like this, is what first comes to Yamato’s mind. They had similar arrangements in the ANBU, some of the members, and him, well, too- he had been twenty at the time, the first time, that is; by then, he had already been pretty secure in his sexuality - being hopelessly in love with somebody for most of your teenage years does that to you - and when, after a particularly taxing mission, one of his teammates had offered to “take care of him,” he hadn’t, for the first time in his life, refused. He had felt… strange afterwards, but that was okay, because it hadn’t been about feelings; they might as well have had their masks on, it was so impersonal. Instead, it had been about relieving tension, nothing more, nothing less. He had allowed it to happen a couple more times until, one day, he saw Kakashi, and suddenly, it stopped being easy. That had been nearly four years ago. 

And now, here he is.

Exhaling instead of replying, he finds himself leaning on the railing again and facing the soft, misty sea air. Aoba is studying him quietly, patiently, from the side, arms crossed.

“I don’t know,” Yamato begins, honestly. “But I…” turning his head to Aoba, color creeping along his cheeks again, fingers squeezing the railing nervously, “well, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t… enjoy it.” 

Aoba’s smile manages to be both amiable and more than a little smug, and Yamato can’t help but answer it with one of his own soft, awkward ones.

“But Gai-san was amazing, wasn’t he?” Aoba murmurs playfully, laughing a bit when Yamato turns bright red.

“Yes,” Yamato concedes quietly, embarrassedly, looking anywhere else but at Aoba. “Yes, he was.”

**Author's Note:**

> After hours of being unable to decide on a name for this story (the working title being "boat boys"), I decided to borrow it from Moby Dick, because, well, it's about sailors and it's pretty damn gay. In case you're wondering about its meaning, the whole quote goes like this: "Let me look into a human eye, it is better than to gaze into sea or sky."
> 
> P.S. English isn't my first language, so if you see any funny stuff, don't hesitate to tell me.
> 
> P.P.S. I absolutely love feedback, especially since this pairing doesn't officially even exist, so any comments are more than welcome <3


End file.
